


Elise

by oselle



Series: Birthright [30]
Category: The Faculty (1998)
Genre: Aliens, Alternate Universe, Angst, Conspiracy, Gen, Missing Persons, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 12:46:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oselle/pseuds/oselle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Casey's mother, trying to find a way forward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elise

For sixteen years—no, seventeen—she had been Casey’s mother and had always thought of herself in that way. Most women say that they never want to become _defined_ as “so-and-so’s mother” but it just happens, and it had happened to Elise Connor and she hadn’t minded. She couldn’t think of herself as anything else, not after sixteen—no, wait, it _was_ seventeen years, wasn’t it? Of course it was seventeen, there had been a birthday, after all. But that had been the one in the hospital, and Elise didn’t like to think about that one. It would be eighteen years soon enough, but Elise didn’t like to think about that, either.

It didn’t seem possible, seventeen years. In her bedroom dresser, Elise had a gift that Casey had given her on Mother’s Day when he’d been four years old, his own handprint set in blue clay. Next to the print he had scrawled _Casey 4_. Was that really thirteen years ago? Every day now seemed longer than those thirteen years, now that she was not Casey’s mother anymore.

On some of the long days, Elise liked to pretend that Casey was just away at college. Which is where he would have been, of course, _should_ have been. She would prop the door of his room open halfway, so when she walked by it, she could just see the neatly made bed and the tidy desk, all of it just waiting for Casey to come home for Thanksgiving, or Christmas or spring break. He’d come home with laundry, of course, boys always do, and he’d probably be driving some godawful used car that he had bought off of one of the guys in the dorm even though of _course_ they would have bought him a car if he needed one, but Casey always had to do things his own way. Elise could just see it, too, some vintage Volvo or Volkswagen, something that had “character” instead of the nice Honda or Toyota they would have gotten him. Well, that was Casey for you.

Elise liked going into Casey’s room to keep it clean, as if Casey really were going to come home one day, a student brimming with tales of college life and with a bright future ahead of him. She would straighten the bedspread (which needed no straightening) and dust and rearrange Casey’s clothes in the closet, and sometimes she’d be so convinced that Casey really _was_ away at college that as she fluffed and re-hung Casey’s clothes, she’d wonder why he hadn’t taken this or that with him to school, and then she’d remember.  


  
_____  
  


 _We can save your son, Mrs. Connor_ , the doctor said. She said it on the night after Casey had lied to them and snuck off to see that Zeke Tyler in prison, that awful night when Casey was so out of control that Elise barely knew him, when she called the doctor and begged her to come over, terrified that Casey had truly lost his mind and that the night would end with some appalling act of violence, the sort of thing that made the cover of the newspaper — _TEEN KILLS PARENTS, SELF_.  
  
The doctor came quickly, knew what to do, and afterwards, when Casey was finally quiet, Frank carried him upstairs to bed. Elise put him in his pajamas, and for a moment, time seemed to turn back on itself and Casey was just a little boy who’d fallen asleep during a long car trip and needed to be put to bed by his parents. But Casey was sixteen, not six, and he was not asleep, he was unconscious, and what a world of difference there was.  
  
 _We can save your son_ , the doctor said when Elise went back downstairs, after she’d put Casey into his pajamas and tucked him into bed. The doctor said she had seen cases like this, too many cases, and if the children hadn’t received proper medical attention in time, well, the outcomes had always been disastrous. Those were the children who went on to become school shooters or serial killers, or the ones who spent the rest of their lives in strait-jackets.  
  
 _Paranoid-schizophrenic_ , she said, but he was also a violently obsessive socio- and psychopath. There was hope for him, there was hope, but only if he received the proper care, as quickly as possible, in the proper facility.  
  
They were so frightened and it all made so much sense, and the doctor was so convincing, so knowledgeable, and so they signed their son away that night, to save him, while he lay unaware in his own bed.  


  
_____  
  


The doctor was so supportive, always telling them what good progress Casey was making in the hospital. And Elise supposed that was true, because Casey _did_ seem less and less delusional as time went on, and he certainly wasn’t as violent as he had been when he’d been home.  
  
But—and this is where Elise’s memory would sometimes fail her, and she would sit for hours staring blankly at the wall, trying to remember— _had_ he been violent? _Had_ he been delusional?  
  
When Elise asked the doctor these questions, the doctor always reassured her that he _had_ been, and that they had made the right decision, were doing the best thing for their son. But when Elise visited Casey, she thought—how she sometimes thought—that a violent, delusional Casey was somehow better than what she found in the hospital every week.  
  
But that couldn’t be right, because Casey _was_ getting better, she was sure of it. Hadn’t he tried to kill himself, after all, when he hadn’t been in the hospital long enough, when he hadn’t received enough of the proper care? Hadn’t he? Of course he had and the hospital had saved his life. And hadn’t he stopped talking about aliens and invasions? Of course he had…but then again, he had stopped talking about most things, but Elise didn’t think about that.  She focused on the positive. Casey was getting better.  


  
_____  
  


How strange it was to have Casey back at home; he was so _quiet_.  
  
When the doctor came over to check on Casey’s progress, she told Elise that he was doing very well. When Frank came home from work after a day when the doctor had been there, Elise always told him what the doctor had said, but Frank didn’t answer. Frank never went into Casey’s room unless Casey was asleep, and Elise would tell herself that it was sweet, the way her husband would sit for hours and watch Casey sleep, but her mind whispered that it wasn’t sweet at all, it was just that the only time her husband could bear to look at their son was when he was asleep.  
  
The thought that always came after that, the one sentence that always surfaced in her mind was simple and had the heartless ring of truth:  
  
 _We were wrong_.  


  
_____  
  


Elise invited Casey’s friends over to see him because she thought it might make Casey…not so _quiet_ , at least. She had been wrong about them, about them getting Casey into trouble—but no, she _hadn’t_ been wrong, she had just… _forgiven_ them. If she had been wrong about them, then she might have been wrong about Casey, too, and she knew that wasn’t true. It couldn’t be.  
  
No, she had forgiven them, especially that girl, who had been so kind and had written to Casey, when none of his other friends or classmates had. She was a good friend, even if she had once been misguided and had gotten involved in something she shouldn’t have.  
  
So she invited them over, for Casey, but also (secretly, so secretly she didn’t even tell herself) she invited them over so that she could watch them, so that she could see if _they_ thought that she and Frank had been wrong, too.  
  
Elise pretended that she didn’t see the color drain out of Stokely’s face, that she didn’t notice that Stan spent more time staring out the window than looking at Casey.  
  
When they left—and they didn’t stay long—Elise sat with Casey and held his hand and said, “Now wasn’t that nice, Casey? Wasn’t that fun? We’ll invite them again, really soon.”  
  
But she didn’t.  


  
_____  
  


Elise had seen Zeke Tyler only once, at the emergency room, the night it had happened. She remembered that he was tall, but she could never remember what he looked like, and “Zeke Tyler” became equated in her mind with some sort of boogeyman who had led her only child down the path of drugs and insanity. Yet Elise found herself thinking a great deal about Zeke Tyler in the months after the new, quiet Casey came home, wondering about this boy who had been so important to her son that he had needed to lie to his parents and go to see him in those last days before he had gone into the hospital.  
  
One day, Elise asked her sister to come and stay with Casey (and oh, how she had thought the days when she’d need to find a sitter for Casey were behind her) and drove the two hours to Chillicothe, where Zeke Tyler was serving out his sentence. Two hours, but at the end of it, she wasn’t able to get out of the car, she just sat in the parking lot smoking, something she hadn’t done since the day she’d first suspected she was pregnant with Casey. She smoked a great deal now, always outside so that it wouldn’t bother Casey.  
  
Elise chain-smoked six cigarettes in the parking lot of the Ohio State Prison, then put the key in the ignition and drove away. She knew, she _knew_ that if she went in to see Zeke Tyler, she would see it in his eyes, the confirmation of the worst thing.  
  
 _We were wrong._  


  
_____  
  


When Casey came home, his doctor visited him every other week. She would go over Casey’s many medications with Elise, and make sure they were being administered properly, morning, afternoon and night. Then she would always spend a little time with Casey, alone. Elise never questioned why the doctor needed to be alone with Casey; she was sure the doctor had her reasons, good ones. The doctor had saved her son, after all, hadn’t she?  
  
Casey would sometimes appear agitated after the doctor had left, almost frightened. Sometimes he wouldn’t eat afterwards, and sometimes, he would eat but then throw up. Luckily, there were medications for when Casey was so upset. Casey had medications for everything, a little forest of amber bottles with childproof caps that had sprung up on his nightstand. It was good of the doctor to make housecalls; so few of them did nowadays. But sometimes Elise wished she wouldn’t come quite so often.  
  
After Casey was gone, and the days became so long, the doctor didn’t come anymore, of course, but Elise started going to see _her_. The doctor specialized in adolescents, but she encouraged Elise to come and talk. She was a good doctor, very concerned. She saw Elise for free.  
  
One afternoon in December, close to Christmas, after Casey had been gone for almost a month, Elise was sitting in the doctor’s office. A cheerful fire was burning in the fireplace, but there were no Christmas decorations in the house. There were no Christmas decorations in the Connor house, either.  
  
The doctor encouraged Elise to talk about Zeke Tyler. They often spoke about that day in November when he had come and kidnapped Casey. The doctor thought it was important for Elise to talk about that day, about everything that Zeke had said and done.  
  
“I keep thinking…I keep telling myself, ‘Why…why did I let him in?’” Elise said. She was in tears, twisting a tissue in her hands.  
  
“Mrs. Connor,” the doctor said soothingly, “I know we’ve discussed this but you have to let go of the ‘whys.’ I’m sure you thought you were doing the best thing for Casey.”  
  
“I did…I did, but still…I should have known better.”  
  
“There must have been something in Zeke’s demeanor that made you trust him. Maybe something he said…”  
  
“He didn’t really say anything. He seemed perfectly, just…concerned.”  
  
“Are you sure, Mrs. Connor? Are you sure he didn’t say anything, any hint of what he had planned?”  
  
“I’m sure…I…I’d never have let him in…”  
  
“He never even suggested just taking Casey for a ride?”  
  
“Of course not…I wouldn’t have let him.”  
  
“You wouldn’t have?”  
  
“No! Absolutely not!”  
  
“Of course you wouldn’t have, Mrs. Connor,” the doctor said, smiling. “But I wonder…well, I almost wonder why you left Casey alone with him. Something in you must have trusted him.”  
  
“He seemed so sweet…and Casey had so few friends.”  
  
“Do you think Zeke Tyler was Casey’s friend?”  
  
“No…I…”  
  
“Do you think it was good of Zeke to kidnap him? Do you think Zeke was trying to help him?”  
  
Elise thought of Casey, so quiet when he came home. She thought of her husband watching him sleep. Of Zeke Tyler, saying, “Hey buddy,” and the tremor in his voice.  
  
“I don’t know,” she said.  
  
“If Zeke believed he was helping Casey, don’t you think he’d want Casey’s parents to know Casey was all right?”  
  
“I wish he would…”  
  
“Contact you?”  
  
“Yes, of course.”  
  
“And would you see him, if he did? Would you keep in touch with him, even if you couldn’t get Casey back?”  
  
“Well, yes…” Elise said, feeling confused. She flapped her shredded tissue at the doctor and gave a halfhearted laugh. “You make it sound as if I know where they are.”  
  
“ _Do_ you, Mrs. Connor? Do you know where they are?”  
  
Elise thought the doctor was joking, or trying to make some point, but when Elise looked at her, she saw only a cold, probing stare. A sudden thought came to her: _I gave my son to this woman. And I don’t even know who she is_.  
  
“Of course I don’t,” she said. “Why would you say that?”  
  
The doctor smiled. “It was just a question, Mrs. Connor. I’m just trying to help you work this out.”  


  
_____  
  


After that day, the doctor went away for the holidays. She said that she would be back in January.  
  
In late January, when Casey had been gone for two months, Elise called the doctor, but received a pre-recorded message saying the number had been disconnected. She tried again, certain she’d misdialed, and got the same message.  
  
Elise got in her car and drove to the doctor’s house on High Street. A For Sale sign was on the snow-dusted lawn.  
  
She went home and called the hospital in Columbus, where Casey’s doctor had kept another office. The answering service told her that the doctor was on a professional sabbatical and could not be reached. They assured her that they would relay her message when the doctor called in.  
  
For several weeks, Elise kept calling. It was March now, almost spring, and Casey had been gone for four months. The house on High Street was sold. The doctor never returned any of Elise’s calls.  
  
One day in April, when Casey had been gone for five months, the answering service told her that the doctor had chosen not to resume her practice in Ohio and had returned to Virginia after her sabbatical. Elise could find no listing for her in Virginia, neither through Directory Assistance nor through any of the hospitals, universities or professional associations in the state or the Washington, D.C. area.  
  
Elise went upstairs, holding onto the wall for support. She did not go to Casey’s room. She went to her own room and took Casey’s clay handprint from the dresser. She sat on the edge of the bed with it between her hands.  
  
 _Casey 4_ , it said, but Elise couldn’t see it. She didn’t realize how tightly she was holding it until it broke in half, sending a dusting of blue powder onto the carpet.  
  
When Elise’s husband came home, he found her at the kitchen table, clumsily gluing the two pieces of clay back together with trembling hands.  


  
_____  
  


The days were so long.  
  
When Casey had first gotten sick, Elise had taken a leave of absence from the accounting firm. She considered going back to work, but rejected the idea. She needed to be home if Casey called. If Zeke called.  
  
She kept herself busy taking care of Casey’s room. She found all of Casey’s photographs and put them up on the walls. The bright paint-by-numbers pictures went into the trash. Elise could hardly remember having put them up in the first place.  
  
Every now and then, she would do a search for Casey’s doctor, to see if her name had turned up on the roster of any hospital staff or faculty. Sometimes, she thought of hiring a private investigator, but always backed away from the idea.  
  
She tracked down Zeke Tyler’s mother in New York, but the woman wouldn’t talk to her and never returned her calls. Sometimes she thought about going to New York to see her, but backed away from that idea, too.  


  
_____  
  


On a blustery day in November, when Casey had been gone for one year, longer even than he’d been at the hospital in Columbus, Elise made a phone call to Chicago. She could tell that she’d taken the poor girl by surprise.  
  
She exchanged some bland pleasantries with Stokely, and then almost hung up without coming to the reason for her call.  
  
“Wait,” she said. “Stokely, wait.”  
  
“Mrs. Connor?”  
  
“Stokely I…I wanted to say…”  
  
 _I wanted to say that I was wrong, that my husband and I were wrong. I wanted to say that we destroyed our son, we destroyed our Casey, my boy, my beautiful boy, and I had to say it to someone, Stokely, and I couldn’t say it to anyone but you, because you already know it’s true. And oh please, if you ever see him, if he’s still alive, please tell him, tell him we didn’t know, oh God, please tell him that I think about him every minute of every day and if only I could see him one more time, if only if only I could…_  
  
“Yes, Mrs. Connor?”  
  
“I wanted to say that…” Elise paused for so long she thought Stokely would hang up. At last she said, “No…I wanted to ask…did you know Zeke Tyler? Did you know him well?”  
  
“Not really, Mrs. Connor, no.”  
  
“Do you think…do you think he’s harmed my son?”  
  
Stokely was quiet for a moment before answering, “No, Mrs. Connor. I don’t.”  
  
Elise lowered her voice. “Do you think he’s taking care of him?”  
  
She could hear Stokely breathing on the other end of the line. Elise held her own breath, and waited.  
  
“Yes, Mrs. Connor.”  
  
Elise gripped the phone tightly. Her next words rushed out in a blurted whisper.  
  
“Then I’m glad he took him.”  
  
Elise hung up before Stokely could respond. She knew she would never speak to her again. Her hand left a sweaty mark on the phone.  
  
Elise went upstairs and curled up on Casey’s bed. Ahead of her stretched a lifetime of days, all of them, so long.


End file.
